Love at First Bite
by Choice
Summary: It takes less than seven minutes to convince Puck that Kurt's gotta be the one special someone that love songs're always going on about. That's cool-awesome, even, but it'd be even cooler if Kurt could see that Puck's for real.
1. I, II

**Love at First Bite**

* * *

A work in progress, this story is my own Puck/Kurt-inspired redux of _Silly Love Songs_. (I'd also like the point out that this was a prompt written by _pterawaters_ because I want to enunciate the fact that without her and her epic prompting, I would've never even thought to write this. She's pretty much the inspiration for _Love at First Bite_. Fo' realz.) That said, expect plenty of aspects and spoilers from Season 2!

For those curious, the title comes from Aerosmith's "Dude (Looks Like a Lady)", which will be making an appearance sometime later on in this fic.

Parts one through three (one and two share this first chapter) are already written and posted; expect four shortly, and feel free to leave suggestions and recommendations in your review!

* * *

He was halfway through clearing out his locker, carefully packaging his emergency hair products and spare outfits. _It's weird to think I won't be needing these anymore,_ he thought with just a touch of regret. It wasn't like he _wanted_ to leave, after all. But thanks to Karofsky…

His body tensed at the ominous _squeak-slap squeak-slap_ of someone's shitty Converse hitting the linoleum as they sprinted down the hall… towards him. Thinking it was some jock trying to get in one last farewell slushie for the road, he shoved his head further into his locker. (He felt like some pathetic, flamboyant little gopher, burrowing into the ground at the slightest hint of trouble, and wasn't that thought just a lovely kick to his already battered, very male ego?)

"Kurt!"

He snapped out of his glaring contest with the locker mirror, peering over the lip of the locker's door. "...Puck?"

"Hey dude, wait up-you can't leave!"

Kurt sighed, having gone through the same exact thing with some of the other gleeks. (Brittany had been a particularly painful experience; he'd ended up telling her that he finally got his letter to Hogwarts. It was easier than trying to explain the whole situation.) "Puck, I've told everyone else in glee club, and I'll tell you. I have to leave. Unless I want to be a smear on the lockers-"

"No, look. I can help you," Puck insisted, catching his breath as he leaned up against the row of lockers beside Kurt. "Just like I said in glee, I can-"

"I appreciate your offer, but do you really think you can keep an eye on me every single second of the school day? Unless you attach a tracking device to Karofsky and his goons, you won't be able to keep me safe. No one can." He softened at Puck's pout. "Look, I'm sorry..."

"Dude, I can handle Karofsky and all that. Gimme one week to prove it to you."

Kurt swallowed against the phantom feel of Karofsky's lips pressing against his, bile rising in his throat. "Puck-"

"Come on, Kurt. One week, that's all I'm asking. Seven days, and I'll make sure no one even thinks about laying a hand on you and your prissy-fied outfits. Just..." Puck scratched the back of his neck, bashful. "I'd sorta avoid the corsets, bud. Even I think that's a bit much, and I'm usually down with kinky shit."

Kurt flushed. "It was _one_ time," he stressed.

Puck smirked back at him. "Right. So... we on?" He offered his hand to Kurt, who sort of stared at it for a moment.

"On one condition," Kurt murmured. His eyes flashed up to Puck's before darting down again. Who knows if he's as okay with me as he says, Kurt thought bitterly. He's probably just like Finn.

"Shoot."

Kurt steeled himself for the worst, puffing his chest and meeting Puck's gaze head-on. "I want seven minutes in heaven... with you."

* * *

Puck blinked. "I-uh, what?" He expected for Kurt to look terrified and near-tears with each silent second that ticked past-not that he _wanted_ him to-but his determined frown didn't falter. The way Kurt stood before him, looking like a penguin trying to be intimidating made Puck want to laugh. Still, he had to respect the kid's balls.

"If you're so adamant about keeping me around here," Kurt finally replied, "You're going to have to prove to me that you have no qualms with me _gaying up_ the place. I don't intend to tone down my style or personality just to make life easier for myself. I will _not_ be a run-of-the-mill wallflower afraid to show the world who I am, Noah Puckerman."

"But you're afraid enough to hightail it outta here?" Puck asked, regretting it as soon as the words left his mouth. Kurt looked the most vulnerable Puck had seen him since he'd told everyone in glee about transferring. Puck shoved down his hesitance and (slight) disgust and agreed before Kurt had time to change his mind. "Fine, I'll do it. Just-don't think I'll make any exceptions 'cause you're my boy," he said firmly. "I'll give you _seven_ minutes, no more."

Puck was glad that hurt look had mostly faded from Kurt's expression. It made him want to beat himself up for being such a douche. Kurt rolled his eyes and muttered, "I'll try to contain myself."

They stood there, sharing an awkward little bubble of space. "Well?" Puck prompted after what felt like ages.

"Well _what?_" Kurt snapped. "Am I supposed to make the first move or something? My knowledge of Seven Minutes in Heaven is solely based off of what I've seen in movies, so-"

"What?" Puck blinked. "No, I mean-where'd you wanna go so we can get this over with?"

"I hope you're relying on your talents more than your charm, Puckerman, because this is _so_ not winning me over," Kurt snapped. "And I thought we were doing it here."

"Here?" Puck repeated. Christ, he must sound like a fucking moron, but he was _so_ confused. More so than after he'd told his ma about Carole being in the hospital for her prostate surgery. "What, you mean like… out in the open?"

Kurt glared at him like he was a disgusting, flesh-eating parasite he wanted to nix. "It's after-hours. I didn't think we'd have to go the totally cliché route and scurry off to a supply closet to… _"get this over with"_."

Puck grimaced because a) he didn't really like that idea-what about the jocks who stayed after for practice?-and b) Kurt was really ace about making Puck feel like a heartless bastard. Was he taking lessons from Puck's mom? He was really good with the whole guilting thing.

Before he could apologize or something, Kurt (thankfully) sighed and said something about an empty classroom, along with some longwinded one-sided argument with himself on his "wise" decision. (He'd even used air-quotes.)

Puck had to wonder what the fuck he was on and what he'd gotten himself into. After seven minutes with the Puckerone, Kurt wouldn't be able to resist him! Puck sighed to himself, shaking his head sorrowfully. Poor Kurt would probably transfer out anyway, from the intense heartbreak of seeing Puck walking around the halls, making out with hot chicks and getting his mack on while Kurt watched wistfully from the sidelines.

Puck just hoped he wouldn't have to bring out a restraining order. Jeez, the things he did for friends!


	2. III

**Love at First Bite**

* * *

Kurt ended up dragging Puck into a rarely-used supply closet. He felt totally tacky for his unoriginality but in his defense, he'd rather be cliché than end up being spied upon by the elusive janitorial staff as they made their afternoon rounds. or several long moments, all they did was stare at each other. The bottles crammed onto the shelving unit were dressed in coats of dust, age making their labels faded and illegible and it reeked of stale mop water with Windex, but it would do.

They stood in the locked closet for a few moments, sort of just… staring at each other. When it became obvious Puck wasn't about to make the first move Kurt huffed in frustration and invaded the jock's personal space. He paused just before their lips touched, suffering an involuntary flashback to his very first, very tragic boy-kiss. It'd been so sudden, Kurt hadn't had a chance to remember much of anything besides a strangling fear and mind-numbing disbelief. As his eyes roamed, digesting the look on Puck's face, Kurt couldn't help but notice the stark difference between then and now. _He_was in control here. It was a relief, but Kurt found himself a little dismayed that Puck wasn't nearly as dominant and assertive as Kurt had hoped. (What? He was allowed his fantasies.)

Shrugging it off, Kurt closed the distance between them in a sudden surge of movement. He shoved Puck into a metal rack of cleaning supplies with this enthusiasm, and Kurt felt Puck flounder around beneath him. His lips, however, were unmoving and… wow. Kurt never actually wondered if the rumors about Puck's prowess were true, but now he had to wonder about the credibility of his sources. Clearly Puck wouldn't be above spreading gossip about himself that put him in a good, sex god-like light.

Kurt removed his lips with a _smack._ "You're really not good at this." Kurt was just as surprised as Puck looked. "It's like being kissed by my Aunt Mildred's geriatric Pekingese."

Puck blinked a few times, looking at Kurt like he was the Messiah or something. And who could blame him? Kurt was _ethereal_ in his beautiful McQueen. After he'd rebooted his primeval brain and fixed his slackened jaw Puck, eloquent as always, cleared his throat and choked out a "Say wha?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Nevermind. Look, this was a bad idea. Clearly your narrow-mindedness combined with the Midwestern horror stories of _"catching the gay"_ have left you unable to… deliver." He had to hold back a sadistic smirk at Puck's gape of crestfallen disbelief. Puck was just a semi-friendly acquaintance trying to help, after all; no need to be a _total_ bitch about his totally unexpected sexual shortcomings.

He sighed when all Puck could do was open and close his mouth in a crude imitation of a fish, or an animated blow-up doll. (They probably existed, right? If sparkling Edward Cullen-inspired dildos existed, Kurt imagined anything was possible.) He let go of "This was a really nice thing for you to do, and if making out with sexually deprived gay boys was a community service I'd totally vouch for you. As it is, I think I'll graciously take my leave."  


* * *

Puck felt like every bit the fool Kurt had always claimed he was. It was so frustrating, acting like such a goober and practically _sitting_ on the shelves because his knees had turned to jell-o the moment Kurt slammed their lips together. A breathy damsel Puck was _not_, alright, so why was he so googly-eyed and panting from a simple kiss? There hadn't even been any tongue action!

In the end, it was his manly pride that gave him the balls to grab a hold of Kurt's wrist and tug him away from the door. He felt a little guilty for the way the other dude's eyes widened in something that looked like fear, but Puck wasn't being Karofsky-forceful. He was being _horny-Puck-_forceful. There was a difference.

"Hold up." he ground out when Kurt finally pressed up against him. Puck felt a thrill course through him, making him shiver a bit. _Whoa, we totally fit together. It's just like those stupid movies ma always watches,_ he marveled. Later, he'd blame his sappy-girly thoughts on chemical fumes. "You didn't give me a chance to give you a proper… _taste_ of the Puckerman experience." He emphasized that with a roll of his hips, glad he could finally feel his legs again.

Kurt was looking at him like he was unreal… but it wasn't in the usual "OMG you're totally hot" way he was used to. It left him feeling like a Lima loser, and just-oh _hell_ no. If there was any aspect of his life where he refused to be considered inadequate, it was in the bedroom! Or, er, closet. Puck scowled at him until Kurt sighed-like he was _suffering_ or something!-and nodded. "Fine," Kurt agreed reluctantly. "Show me what I'll be missing out on, then."

Puck didn't like his tone of voice, but he figured a good few minutes of making out would help change Kurt's tune a million times over. He shot Kurt his best sexy-smirk as he grabbed a hold of Kurt's face. "Watch the hair, Puckerman!" Kurt warned, his eyes glinting dangerously in the dim light of their hideout. He felt his dick harden in his jeans from imagining Kurt looking down at him like that while he shoved Puck down against his bed and-_what?_ Shit, the fumes were really blurring his hetero-awesomeness, weren't they? He struggled to clear his mind (surprisingly harder than usual) as he pressed his lips against Kurt's.

He slid his eyes shut, trying to put all the fluid sexuality and skill he was so notorious for into that kiss, but it was like Kurt was his mojo-kryptonite. It wasn't like he wasn't turned on if his rock-hard dick was any sort of clue to go by, but it was the strange mix of ammonia and dust and what smelled like some seriously expensive cologne that made his head reel. He found himself struggling to deliver-something that _never_ happened, not even after Santana got a boob job and he had to pretend he was into squeezing her sandbags.

Puck was just starting to think he was getting over the newness of kissing another dude when Kurt let out an annoyed, cut-off noise and shoved Puck forward, slipping his tongue past Puck's lips. He felt indignant for a split second-hey, _he_ was supposed to be the one being all confident, not Baby Gay! And then he was too busy shuddering all over and holy _fuck_, how pathetic would it be to come from someone swiping the tip of their tongue over the sensitive roof of your mouth? Well, Puck was about to find out.  


* * *

Kurt hurriedly pulled his tongue out of Puck's mouth, just as things were beginning to get a little interesting, blinking. He wondered if Mr. Heterosexuality was suffering an seizure from all the gay play, but then Kurt looked down at the front of Puck's jeans and-oh.

_Oh._

He said as much.

Kurt wished he could feel bad for Puck, what with how utterly mortified the other boy looked, but he was too busy dancing between strangely satisfied and incredibly pissed off-slash-unsatisfied.

Puck was wheezing like he'd run a marathon, looking awkward and uncomfortable where he was draped against the shelves. A few white spray bottles had fallen to the floor, so Kurt decided to pick them up, figuring he'd give Puck a chance to save face. Except… when he bent over, it sounded like Puck had choked on his own tongue. Alarmed, Kurt looked up to find Puck staring at his ass with an adoration he'd seen on a guy's face in a Burger King commercial. _Awkward._

Kurt slowly stood at his full height and set the unmarked bottles on the shelf behind Puck's head, starting when Puck sort of leaned his temple against his forearm. "Um. I'm just-I've got this… _thing_and-" he sighed at Puck's lost, wide-eyed look. It was sort of endearing, but mostly pitiful. "I'm sorry, Puck. This just isn't working for me."

"But…" Kurt felt Puck's eyes on his back as he turned to let himself out. "That was only three minutes!"

He felt the sudden, unexpected urge to reach out and pet the boy's stripe of hair. He shrugged and settled for a regretfully honest "Three minutes I'll never get back."

Kurt left the door ajar as he made his way back to his locker, lost in thought. Noah Puckerman _wasn't_a sex shark. Who knew?

As if sensing his doubt, he heard Puck slam the closet door open and rush forward. Kurt turned and skirted Puck's hands before he could be manhandled, frowning at the other boy. "Puck?"  


* * *

"Look, Princess." Puck huffed. "I'm just a little high right now, alright? Weed always saps me of my sex drive." Truth was, he hadn't had a joint in _weeks_ but Kurt didn't need to know that. "I'm gonna give you a rain check-the whole seven minutes, free of charge. But only if you stay," he threatened. Puck quickly backtracked at Kurt's sour frown, going for pathetic and desperate. "I'll even carry your man-purse for you. Just-please stay?"

Kurt stared at him for a minute, still frowning but in that way his mom usually did when Puck made her some bullshit excuse for why it took him so long to get home on school nights. He hoped this would turn out better than that, because his ma always saw through his lame-ass "Glee got let out late" excuse.

He did a little dance of victory (in his mind, not in real life-that'd be pretty fuckin' weird) when Kurt finally agreed. "I accept your terms. _However_…" Puck steeled himself for the worst as Kurt smirked an evil smirk that sorta did things to Puck's spent dick. "In addition, I would like to be treated to at least one grande non-fat mocha on _your_ dime." At Puck's confusion, Kurt explained himself. "If I were to transfer to Dalton, Blaine promised me regular outings to the Lima Bean, at least once a week. Caffeine is almost as important as _fashion_ to me, so if you want to keep this around McKinley's hallowed halls…" Kurt stated as he ran a hand down his side, "You should be well aware that it doesn't come cheap. And Puck?"

Puck swallowed, his mouth dry. He looked up from Kurt's jutted hip when the other boy cleared his throat. "Huh?"

The smirk had never left Kurt's face. "If you _really_ want this, you best come correct because I spell fierce H-U-M-M-E-L. I need to be wooed." He reached out and fixed Puck's hair, flicking his ear as an afterthought. "You hear me, Puck? _Wooed._"

Puck watched as Hummel strutted down the hall, forgetting the cardboard box sitting in front of his locker. He waited until that ass disappeared down the corner to sigh and pick up the box filled with Kurt's girly shit. "Damn." What the hell was he getting himself into?

He was halfway out the door when someone grabbed a hold of the hood of his sweatshirt. He tensed as someone big and burly leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "Sup, sad sac?"


End file.
